


honey, we're meant to be

by orphan_account



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Mentions of other characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 16:43:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10033922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Fate loves throwing Veronica and Betty together randomly. And it’s almost as if fate is throwing them together-together.Or at least Veronica says so.





	

The mirror in the Ladies Room next to the school library is _filthy_. And Betty’s glare slicing through it doesn’t make it look any better.

She sends her reflection another glare, curses at her, then focuses on her hands once again. Her pen (or rather, _Jughead’s_ ) acted up right when she was in the middle of a quiz and, having forgotten her pen case on Veronica’s dining table the weekend before, she had to use the darned pen until the quiz ended.

Obviously that meant the ink kept oozing out the mechanism and onto Betty’s innocent hands. And now they _won’t_ wash off.

She hears a cubicle door opening and closing, but doesn’t bother looking up from her god forsaken inked fingers.

The voice that speaks makes everything feel a _little_ better though: “Betty Cooper, seems like the fates have thrown us together again.”

Rolling her eyes as she looks up, Betty can’t help the smile that forms on her lips as she meets Veronica’s gaze. “Fate is _obviously_ running out of ideas if it ‘threw us together’ on the only toilet on the second floor that’s not a hotspot for sex and make outs.”

Veronica shrugs, walking confidently to the sink to wash her hands. She spares Betty’s hands a distasteful look and asks, “Tattoo gone wrong, Betts?”

Betty sighs, stopping her scrubbing momentarily to send Veronica a look. “No, Jughead’s pen spat out ink and now I can’t get it off. Which reminds me, I left my pencil case on your-”

“Dining table, yup,” Veronica cuts her off, opening her purse as she moves closer and takes Betty’s hands. “Mom saw it and would not stop teasing me about the pastel pink color and the smiling kitty until I told her it was yours. I wasn’t going to, but I couldn’t take the remarks.” She takes a rough cloth out of her purse and wets it, then scrubs it against Betty’s hands.

Betty flushes, thumb raising so Veronica can scrub in between her fingers, not even having enough willpower to tell Veronica she can do it herself. “So does that mean Mrs. Lodge will now tease _me_ about it?”

“Of course,” comes Veronica’s casual reply. She adds, with a teasing smirk, “Also, she’s complaining about how you keep calling her ‘Mrs. Lodge’ and wants you to call her Hermione,” she winks before adding: “Or Mommy if you like that better.”

Betty chuckles, dipping her hand under the running water to splash Veronica in her pretty face. She laughs a little at the murderous look that flashes through the said pretty face. “Don’t tempt me, Ronnie, I _might_ really call her mommy. And she’ll go with it and at the end of the day, _you’ll_ be the uncomfortable one.”

Her scrubs get a little harsher, but her thumb rubs through each spot afterwards, relaxing Betty. Then she answers, mirth still dripping from her tone, “I really wouldn’t mind.”

The ink is washing off, Veronica’s delicate fingers working on her hands softly. She looks up and admires Veronica’s outfit, a buttoned up white shirt with the first two buttons unbuttoned, and jean shorts underneath that does wonders to Veronica’s thighs. She smilesm “You look different from usual.”

Veronica blinks, fingers pausing as she leans back to stare at her own reflection. Her lips curl downwards. “Cheryl spilled her lemon juice on me, so she got me this shirt from Josie’s locker. I didn’t even know Josie has white clothes.” She tilts her head slightly, hand still pressed against Betty’s, before adding, “I used to wear a lot of buttoned up shirts before though, just when it’s just me and my parents. They’re… comfy.”

Betty nods, fingertips absentmindedly pushing against Veronica’s skin. She pushes her shoulder against Veronica’s. “I like this look on you. You know, I think you’d actually look good in outfits you don’t usually wear.”

Dark eyes flick to meet hers through the mirror. “Guess this is my new favorite shirt, then. Tell Josie she’s not getting it back.”

A wink, an infuriatingly mischievous smirk, and Betty’s fingers curling as her heart falls for the beauty that is Veronica Lodge.

Oh fates.

//

Three hours. It’s been three hours since 5 PM. Three hours since Archie called to say he’d be late. Three hours since Archie was supposed to meet Betty.

She sits defeated on a booth at Pop’s, eyes scanning the empty place for anyone at all that she might know. Jughead’s mysteriously absent tonight, Kevin’s probably on a date with Joaquin at the South side, tangled under the sheets with him as of this moment – Betty crinkles her nose at the thought, and Veronica’s on a date with- well, Betty doesn’t actually know who she’s on a date with.

She sighs, sinking further down her seat. At least Hermione’s here, and she keeps sending her these sad looks like she wants to sit down with her and keep her company but can’t, and instead she sends onion rings and milkshakes on her stead.

The sun has long set, and the moon shines brightly above in all its ghoulish white, perfect circle goodness. And all Betty can think is just how lonely she is right now.

The door rings and she can’t even get herself to look away from the moon, chin digging on her palm as her unoccupied hand twirls her straw around the glass. She hears murmurs, an angry rant, and a shocked “Is that Betty?”

Soon enough, she finds herself staring at a stone-faced Veronica as she sits on the seat across hers. “Hey,” she greets weakly, her smile just as weak.

Veronica frowns at her, eyebrow raising. After a long staring contest (that’s really just Veronica staring unblinking as Betty stares back tiredly), Veronica reaches forward and takes Betty’s drink, nose muscles wrinkling in disgust as she slides it back to Betty after a long sip. “Let me tell you, babe, Vanilla is _damn_ boring. My mom knows your favorite anyway, why do you have vanilla?”

“I already had two glasses of Strawberry,” Betty replies, shrugging. She pinches the straw in the middle, gaze flicking ever so slightly at Veronica’s lipstick stain on the tip, then she sips from it and when she pulls away, the stain is gone.

“Andrews stood you up?” she says it so tensely, as if she’s mad but at the same time just… defeated.

The corner of Betty’s lip pulls upward at Veronica’s use of Archie’s last name as if it washes off the affection. She nods. “Yeah. He said he’d be late but-”

“Wasn’t your date at 5, though?”

She raises an eyebrow questioningly, but Veronica shrugs her unspoken questions away. She shrugs, _again._ “Yeah.” She blinks at her drink. Vanilla _is_ extremely boring. Is _Betty_ vanilla? Is that why Archie won’t ever return her feelings?

No, wait. “Feelings”. These days, she’s not even sure what it is she’s feeling. It’s like she’s just used to pining after Archie, and that she’s _supposed_ to pine after him. Girl-next-door falling for the boy-next-door is every person’s dream. It makes sense that it’s Betty’s too.

But as her gaze trails up Veronica’s shirt – a gray band tee, which is unusual but the long royal blue jacket over it manages to make it look _Veronica_ – and lands on Veronica’s pretty face, she’s not so sure it makes sense to _Betty_ . She clears her throat, juts her chin forward, and looks away from Veronica’s gaze. “You’re wearing a band tee. That’s obviously not _yours_.”

Veronica flinches as if she’s awoken from a nap. She looks down at her shirt and lets out a small, shy chuckle. “This is, um, Jughead’s. I mean, it’s _obviously_ not mine. I-” she laughs, shaking her head at herself. “I ruined my shirt before I got here.” She smiles tight lipped, digs inside her bag, and takes out an expensive looking black shirt that’s ripped in the middle.

Betty doesn’t even try to keep the disbelieving laugh the escapes her lips as she reaches for the shirt and examines it, the hole rugged and violent looking. She raises an eyebrow at Veronica. “What the hell happened, V?”

The girl across her sighs, puts her elbow on the table and lets her cheek squish against it as she stares at Betty, shrugging. “Cheryl stood me up.”

She looks up quickly, mouth dry as she asks, “Wait… Cheryl’s your date?”

“No,” Veronica dismisses, flicking her wrist, “Well, at least not _that_ way. I’m pretty sure Josie’s in love with her and I will _not_ take anything away from the second coolest girl I’ve ever met.” Betty nods, a silent, relieved sigh flowing out between her lips. “I was going to have a ‘talk’-” air quotes, and a roll of the eyes “-about trivial stuff, and then I’ll sleep over at hers, but Cheryl wouldn’t even answer my calls. And I was already outside her house, that bitch. Anyway, I had to walk home, and I fell down a hill.”

Betty’s eyes widen and she suddenly sits straighter, reaching forward to grab Veronica’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Veronica chuckles, although she doesn’t pull her hand away – just stares at it. “I called Jughead though. Because everyone’s busy tonight. And he took me to where he’s currently living and lent me this shirt. It’s his only clean shirt.”

“Seriously, Ronnie, sometimes you’re just too… clumsy,” Betty mutters as she strokes her thumb against a fresh wound on Veronica’s hand. She looks up, eyes solemn, and sighs. “What do I even do with you?”

Veronica stares back, half-amused and half-insulted, her other hand falling gracefully against her chest in mock shock. " _Me_? And this is coming from _you,_  Betty Cooper?”

“I’m just saying: you’re pretty clumsy if you actually fall down on any hill here in Riverdale.”

“Are you saying I’m pretty?” Veronica asks mischievously.

Betty rolls her eyes. “I _said_ ‘pretty clumsy’.”

The dark haired beauty smirks, hand turning over to clasp Betty’s hand. She leans forward, winks, and says, “I think you’re pretty too.”

“V, that’s not what I-” She takes a deep breath, knowing fully well that Veronica knows that’s not what she said, but won’t let it go. “But I guess you’re pretty.”

She expects Veronica to pull her hand away, and exclaim at the ‘I guess’, but instead the girl tightens her hold on Betty’s hand, eyes turning soft and smile small but indescribably, as she murmurs, “Thanks.”

They stare at each other for a while, smiling tiredly at each other, until Hermione walks to them with a glass of double chocolate. Veronica thanks her sweetly, as Betty sends her a warm smile.

As she leaves, Veronica looks back at Betty and smiles, mischievous as ever. "Hey, B.”

“Yeah?”

“Just so you know, you’re the first coolest girl I’ve ever met.”

She tilts her head, ears feeling tingly as her heart beats against them. “What?”

“Josie’s the second coolest girl. You’re way above her. I mean you’re so cool that fate threw us together _yet_ again.”

And just like that, Betty feels like the night isn’t wasted at all, and that she’s the least lonely person on Earth. And it’s probably all because of Veronica’s soft smiles and magical words.

//

Veronica seems to think that after being stood up simultaneously, they have to date every Friday night. Not _that_ way, but as besties who would _never_ leave each other in the dust. (And Betty would never admit it but sometimes it feels like it’s _that_ way.)

And she also never forgets to remind Betty that it’s fate throwing them together every single time. It’s a constant, along with the rolling of Betty’s eyes as she greets Veronica – because she’s _always_ the first one to arrive out of the two -  and the smile that immediately lights up on Veronica’s face every time they sit staring at each other, not having anything to say, really.

It’s a nice constant.

She checks her Twitter account, waiting for Veronica as she sits on their usual booth at Pop’s, glass of double chocolate shake on the table, its two straws untouched: Cheryl’s promoting Josie and the Pussycat’s next gig; Jughead tweeted a line that’s too romantic to be part of his thriller novel (Betty will have to ask him about it next time they meet); and Kevin and Joaquin _both_ tweeted ‘Okay.’ just a minute from each other and Betty swears if they’re pulling a TFIOS, she’ll block them both.

Veronica’s running late, but she doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all like when it’s Archie running late. It’s as if Betty’s just _so sure_ that Veronica will always arrive.

Even though it’s been an hour and still no text from the rich beauty. Betty sighs, placing her phone on top of the table and looking around the place. Hermione catches her eyes and walks towards her. “Ronnie not here yet?”

She shakes her head.

“She’ll be here in a while, sweetie. Don’t leave.”

She smiles, almost laughs, because that’s ridiculous. “I won’t leave, Hermione.”

Hermione smiles back, and Betty’s filled with this feeling of warmth and being loved that she almost wants to stand to give Hermione a hug – a thank you for being such a good mother to Veronica. “You know, Ronnie told me about how you threatened to call me mommy. I don’t really like that.”

Her face distorts into horror, mouth opening to speak, but Hermione raises a hand to stop her.

“Call me mom, I’ll accept that.”

“That’s-” _weird, awkward, please no._  But she smiles, because she doesn’t feel weird about it all. “Yeah, sure. And a plus is that Veronica will probably beg me to stop.”

“Speaking of,” Hermione says, staring pointedly out the windows.

Betty looks up and laughs. Because there she is – Veronica Lodge – looking as disgruntled as possible for someone as perfect as her, with a huge bouquet of flowers, a box of _something,_ and some kind of panicked hurriedness in her steps.

Oh, and she’s wearing ripped jeans, and it makes Betty unconsciously gulp, eyes enjoying the small bits of skin exposed.

And it also makes Betty wonder why Veronica’s always wearing these clothes lately, and she always has an excuse too: “Josie dared me”, “Kevin said I’d look pretty in it, gay BFF fashion advices should be taken seriously”, and “Juggy stole my burger, so I stole his shirt” even though the shirt fit Veronica like a glove.

The door opens loudly, and a huffing Veronica makes her way to Betty. “Hey mom,” she greets her mom swiftly, before turning her full attention towards Betty and pushing the bouquet of roses. “I’m so, so sorry I’m late. My phone died and Josie wanted an audience for her new song, Archie’s MIA and so Cheryl dragged me with her and-”

“It’s fine, Ronnie,” Betty assures, a small smile lifting her lips as she accepts the flowers. She stares at it for a while, before her gaze lifts up and she finds Veronica and Hermione having a secret conversation with their eyes. She clears her throat. “Since yellow’s for friendship, what are these colors for?”

Veronica falters, she sends her mom a look, which is sent back in the form of a shrug before the older woman bids Betty goodbye and goes back to her work. The daughter stares at her retreating back, betrayed. She looks back at Betty. “Uh, sorry about that. Um, what- what was your question?”

“What’s, um-” she scans the bouquet and recites the colors “-purple, blue, red, and pink for?”

“I don’t really know. I just saw it while passing by the flower shop and thought it looks pretty.”

She stares a bit more at the bouquet, warmth bursting in her heart, then she sends Veronica the brightest smile she can muster. “It does, thanks. You didn’t need to, you know. It’s just an hour and I would’ve waited until the store closed.”

Veronica smiles back. “ _I_ would’ve waited until you arrived, doesn’t matter when.”

“Sweet, but a lie.”

“Probably." Veronica shrugs nonchalantly as she takes a seat, smile turning teasing. She slides the box to Betty. “I also got you cupcakes. I actually, um, baked those yesterday night.”

Her eyes lighten up as she meets Veronica’s gaze. “You _bake?_  We’ve been friends for months and I only know about this now, _why?_ ”

“It never came up. And it’s not like I’m good at it. But give me a recipe and I’ll try my best to follow it,” Veronica answers sheepishly, suddenly looking very soft and shy. “We can try it tonight, you know, sleepover at my house.”

“Well, my mom’s going to be mad at me if I ask her if I can this late,” Betty starts, opening the box and peering inside at the pretty cupcakes. She looks up and grins at Veronica’s disappointed face. “But who cares? I’d be _honored_ to.”

Veronica quickly smiles, as if she wasn’t frowning just a moment ago. “I guess fate has done it again. Throwing us together so randomly.”

“Oh, _stop_.”

//

They enter the Lodge house together, Veronica carrying the box of cupcakes as Betty cradles the bouquet in her arms. Her mother _was_ mad, but relieved too because she ‘needed some alone time’ with her laptop and articles.

_Of course._

Betty can’t even force herself to be mad, not as she plops down the couch and Veronica jumps in after her, their shoulders touching and heads a few inches away from each other. And it feels like everything’s just right and peaceful in the world.

She looks down and notices Veronica’s ripped jeans again. “Hey, V.”

“Hm?” Veronica hums, the sound vibrating between them.

“Why are you wearing ripped jeans?”

“It’s Josie’s gift, and I figured I should at least wear it once.”

This time, it’s Betty who hums. She stares at Veronica’s pants, and finds her hand unconsciously making its way towards one of the holes just above the knee. Veronica tenses, but relaxes just as quickly. “I can’t believe it actually suits you. I thought only richness and fine quality would look good on you.”

“That’s insulting. Anything would look good on me. It’s about the person who wears, not what she wears, sweetie.” Veronica’s voice is low, soft – intimate.

It makes Betty’s stomach churn. She distracts herself by rubbing circles on the skin exposed on Veronica’s leg, and she sighs contentedly. “This was such a long week. Exams, papers, and cheerleading practices all at once.”

“I feel you,” Veronica mutters, voice so dangerously low that it makes the skin at the back of Betty’s neck crawl. She turns to face Betty and bury her face on her neck, Betty’s hand ending up inside the hole and flat against Veronica’s skin. “I can sleep right now for a month, probably.”

They grow quiet. Betty doesn’t know if she should pull her hand out or keep it in, so she massages Veronica’s skin softly instead. The only sound that fills the room is the sound of silence, and maybe their breaths but Betty can’t focus on that either.

Veronica’s arms slithers its way to Betty’s stomach, and she snuggles closer, hugging Betty so tightly that Betty has to pull her hand out of Veronica’s jean holes.

She lifts her arm instead, and Veronica lifts her head wordlessly as Betty places her arm under Veronica’s neck.

No words needed, just automatic, and safe, and peaceful, and just _so right._

Betty swears she hears Veronica whisper “Fates, you’ve done it again,” before she fades off to sleep.

//

Hermione wakes them up. “It’s midnight, and you’re both still in those uncomfortable clothes. I would let you sleep because you girls looked so comfortable, but I don’t think the backache in the morning would be worth it.” Then she smiles, and leaves them so she can sleep.

Veronica moves away, stretching her body as she yawns. She side-eyes Betty, and a smile creeps up her face as she says, “I promised baking, so let’s go bake? But let’s go change into comfortable clothes first.”

Still sleepy, Betty nods. Then she follows Veronica to her room, stopping at the doorway because it _hits_ her: “I don’t have sleeping clothes.”

The other girl pauses and turns, gaze travels from Betty’s sock-clad feet to her disappointed face. Veronica snorts, unladylike and very adorably. “I obviously have clothes you can use, B. And I think I have some unused underwear too.” She moves elegantly to her closet and opens it.

Betty peeks inside and finds, well, a _lot_ of clothes hung, folded, and some just thrown over this one pile, in a very orderly manner. Yes, even the pile is orderly. She notices that most of those in the pile are clothes Veronica never wears – thin leather jackets, dark washed jeans, and even some huge sweaters. “Why are they on a pile?”

Veronica spares them a look before shrugging and digging through her drawers. “Those are clothes I bought but never wore.”

“Why don’t you ever wear them?” Betty queries as she picks one out of the bunch – a cute sweatshirt with the words ‘R U kitten me right meow’ printed in front and the fabric a soft shade of green. “Cute,” she mutters under her breath, carefully putting it back on top of the pile.

“I just don’t,” Veronica replies softly, her gaze trained on the pile of clothes. She nibbles on her lower lip, head tilting like a curious puppy. “But tell you what, B, I’ll let you pick what I wear every Saturday as long as we upgrade the Friday night dates to sleepovers.”

“My mom would kill me, but sure.” Betty leans forward, still staring at the sweatshirt. “Can we start now?”

“Now?”

She turns and almost backs away immediately as she realizes Veronica’s right next to her. But she stays where she is, pulled by gravity. “Yeah, now.  I’ll pick your sleeping wear.”

Veronica’s gaze flicks from her lips, to her eyes. “As long as I pick yours.”

//

She obviously picks the sweatshirt and lets Veronica pick a pair of very short polka-dotted shorts. Veronica picks a white cropped top that’s slightly bigger than her size (or at least in the chest department) and pink sleeping pants with ice cream cones printed all over that’s _too_ short for tall Betty.

The cropped top is unfortunate because a) Betty’s stomach is peeking out and it’s making her feel too self conscious, and b) it’s white and a bit of coffee dripped down on it when Betty was drinking as Veronica baked.

And speaking of baking, Veronica has banned her from helping after almost putting in salt instead of sugar, and now she’s just staring at the dark haired girl as she whisks the ingredients together (because she couldn’t find the electric mixer, _of course._  But at least Betty can see her arm muscles tensing and it’s definitely a nice sight) and waiting for Veronica to give the go signal so she can eat some of the dough.

“Betty.”

“Yeah?”

“Notice how the fates _keep_ on throwing us together?”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure.”

“We might as well be soulmates.”

“We are, I guess. Meant to be best friends, really.”

Veronica looks up from the bowl, eyes all kinds of sincere, “Marry me when we’re thirty and both loverless?”

Betty barks out a laugh, it’s trying hard to be amused, and trying hard to not sound uncomfortable, emotional. “Only if I like your proposal.”

Eyelashes sweep up, and dark eyes meet her baby blues. A smirk, her heart beats loudly. And then: “I’ll keep proposing until you like it and say yes, then.”

“That’s improbable if you don’t finish baking your cookies any time soon.”

Instead of snarkily replying (a usual for Veronica and her sassy ass), Veronica leans forward, chin raising ever so slightly, and grins cheekily at Betty, eyes disappearing. Then she says in the most cutesy voice she can muster, “Anything for my future wifey.”

It takes an incredible amount of self control for Betty to stop herself from kissing Veronica’s crinkled nose. Instead, she pinches it and mutters back, “You think you’re so cute, huh?”

Veronica smiles adorably at her when she lets go of her nose, then goes back to her baking - now kneading the dough - still all kinds of smiley and giddy and it makes Betty’s heart just feel so, _so_ happy.

She realizes, in an anticlimactic way that is so Betty-like, that watching Veronica smile makes her heart happy. Hearing Veronica’s laugh makes her heart happy. Being with Veronica makes her heart happy.

Veronica makes her heart - _her_ \- happy.

And wow. She’ll never need another best friend ever again.

//

Veronica proposes for the first time that night, bending down on one knee and holding out the first cookie to Betty, eyes soft but teasing as she asks, “Marry me when we’re thirty and lover-less, Betty Cooper?”

To which Betty replies with a smile on her heart and a tornado in her stomach, “Maybe.” She doesn’t even feel bad as she takes the cookie, bites off it, and Veronica scowls at her.

She just snorts, and pushes the (amazing, by the way) cookie to Veronica’s lips, crumbs faling down on the living room floor.

//

Hermione Lodge finds them cuddling on the couch the next day, and only shakes her head and chuckles softly at Betty’s lips puckered against Veronica’s arm, Veronica’s body squished between Betty’s and the couch behind her, her hand on Betty’s exposed abdomen, and the weird angle of their arms that will surely make them ache later on.

She smiles, makes her way to the kitchen, and makes them breakfast as she snacks on Veronica’s cookies, wondering if Veronica finally told Betty that she bought a whole lot of clothes because she praised a button up shirt on her once. Even wearing those jeans with holes in them that she dislikes so much because they’re so cold on Fall nights.

Probably not. The two girls seem to like it better in the territory of unsaid words and longing looks. And maybe one day they’ll be brave enough to risk it, but today they’ll eat her famous pancakes as they banter about whether chocolate syrup or maple is better on pancakes.


End file.
